


Lecter Motel

by HermaiaMoira



Category: Hannibal (TV), Psycho (1960)
Genre: Alfred Hitchcock - Freeform, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Anal Sex, Chastity Device, Cock & Ball Torture, Dubious Consent, Forced Cannibalism, Kidnapping, M/M, Name-Calling, Pegging, Stockholm Syndrome, Voyeurism, cigarette burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaiaMoira/pseuds/HermaiaMoira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psycho crossover. Set in the late 50’s, Will Graham steals from his boss and just gets in his car and drives across country to escape. On his journey, he stops at a motel on a back road where he thinks no one will bother him for a while. The motel is run by a handsome but somewhat strange man named Hannibal Lecter who piques his curiosity. Hannibal has been picking off the occasional traveler for years now, but his new visitor intrigues him more than the others. Watching him undress and shower through holes in the walls isn't enough… and he feels his dark nature become ravenous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by both the Hitchcock film and the 1959 book by Robert Bloch. Characters are amalgamations of Hannibal and Norman, and Will and Marion.

[Also inspired by this prompt by Hannigrahmy on Tumblr](http://hermaia-moira.tumblr.com/post/112104374904/hannigrahmy-i-need-twenty-fucking-hannigram-fics)

 

 

“Take it easy, that’s what I always say.”

The words echoed back to Will as he drove off the dealership lot in his brand new 1958 burgundy coupé convertible. He was taking it easy now.

_I’ll bet you didn’t expect that, did you?_

As he sped up, the breeze wicked away the moisture on his forehead and neck and ruffled the hair beneath his straw porkpie hat. Anxiety had been pestering him since he left his job for good earlier that afternoon, but now it seemed to grow muffled beneath the sound of that engine purring. Take it easy.

The phrase had slipped greasy and unctuous from between Mr. Lowery’s chapped lips; always a bit raw from being rubbed and chewed by a man who didn’t fare well between drinks. One hand was almost always near his mouth when he was at work and a light sheen touched his forehead even on cool days.

And today was not cool by any means. Not one to spend an extra dollar he didn’t need to, Lowery didn’t splurge for an air-conditioning unit in his real estate office. Will’s pale orange button-down shirt lay open at his collar, damp from sweat. The stifling heat was making him irritable. When Lowery reached out and placed a heavy palm on his upper thigh he stood up from where he had been half-sitting on the edge of the desk.

His boss chuckled hoarsely and a nervous smirk pulled at the corner of Will’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But not too easy, right Mr. Lowery?”

“That’s right.”

Will could see the man’s gaze weaken and a hint of resentment flicker over his face. He instinctively moved to placate him, leaning forward and nudging him on the shoulder with an impish grin. Will had the benefit of a very amiable face. His large blue eyes and naturally upturned mouth were, it would seem, created to win people over. Unfortunately, his pretty boyishness was like catnip for self-entitled pricks like Lowery. The heat of the office only made the constant stress of working there even more physically apparent. Mr. Lowery found any excuse to put his hands on him, and his stare bore no restraint.

Will knew his work history made him undesirable to most employers. He had been dismissed from or even walked out on many jobs in the past couple of years. He didn’t handle the grind very well and often found himself overloaded by the social requirements that they carried. Despite his best efforts, he telegraphed his desire to be anywhere but there. He had since realized why Lowery had kept him on as his assistant for so long. It became painfully evident to him that if he didn’t start reciprocating his boss’ overly familiar interactions he would be once more looking for employment. If there was one thing Will hated more than being on the job, it was interviewing for one. So he let the boss put his hands on him, stand too close, watch his every movement with lecherous bird-like eyes. He laughed and smiled at his clumsy flirting no matter how uncomfortable he felt. This was his life now, trading small dignities for job security.

Mr. Lowery scooped up the bills that Will had just rifled through the counting machine. Forty-thousand dollars, received today, by a wealthy oil leaser who was buying his daughter a house as a bridal gift.

“Quite a pinch we brought in today,” Lowery said. He planted the cash in an envelope and snapped a thick rubber band around it. “Two thousand for my end.”

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” Will attempted to jest. It came out sounding tinged with bitterness. He was barely scraping by in his musty studio apartment living on wholesale canned food.

“I may seem like a skin-flint around the office, son,” Lowery responded, “But in my personal life, I know how to enjoy myself. I take very good care of my friends.”

With that, Lowery reached out and fiddled with the third button down on Will’s shirt. He gave it a twist and unbuttoned it, opening his shirt a bit more. Will’s smile felt stretched over his lips and teeth as he released a half-hearted chuckle.

“My good friends know how generous I am,” Lowery continued in a lowered voice.

“That’s, ah,” Will said, turning his face to one side and biting his lip, “That’s good to know.”

Lowery finally moved away and Will could feel his absence like a cool breeze.

“I’m closing up early today,” the man said. “I want you to take this envelope to the bank and deposit it. Then you have the rest of the weekend to relax, have some fun.”

Will nodded and reached for the envelope. Lowery held it from him for a moment and looked into his eyes.

“You should stop by my place, kid,” he offered. “I have a nice pool, a mini-bar. No better way to beat the heat.”

“Oh,” was all Will could muster. Another nervous, toothsome smile.

“We can talk about maybe you getting in on some of this action,” Lowery fanned himself with the fat envelope.

Will swallowed, inferring the full meaning of Lowery’s invitation. Promises of financial favors tossed carelessly in front of him for rental privileges of the body of Will Graham. He felt himself nodding in spite of himself, and replied, “Sounds great.”

As Will approached the bank, he found that he wasn’t stopping. In fact, he was speeding up. Something in him had clicked when Lowery released the envelope into his hands. He knew that now. Was it spite, or something primal, like a flight or fight reflex? Either way, his boss had left his offer lingering in the air like a noxious fume. So he took the $40,000. He kept driving until he left the neighborhood, visited his apartment to pack a few clothes, then drove right out of town and didn’t stop again until he had reached the dealership in the next state over. From then on out he took the back roads, journeying aimlessly with no goal other than increasing the distance between himself and his old bleak life.

When it began to rain, he put the top up. Soon the rain became a torrential downpour, and his windshield wipers barely kept up enough for him to see the painted lines in the middle of the road. He wasn’t even certain where he was and information signs were growing fewer and farther between. When he saw the glowing motel sign in the distance, it suddenly dawned on him how exhausted he was. He had been driving for eighteen hours, and the storm didn’t seem to be letting up.

_Lecter Motel_ the sign read. Vacancy.

He pulled into the lot and rolled his car over the signal cables. A buzzing sound rang out in the glass-front cubicle in the middle of the line of motel rooms. Will peered through the rain at the dim, empty office. He was about to lay on his horn when suddenly his car door opened.

“Looking for a room?” a voice asked.

Will jumped and looked up at the man who stood over him. He could barely make out his tall, lean figure in the darkness.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied and climbed out. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“From that house, up on the hill,” he replied, pointing up at a Victorian mansion with a sole light in one of the windows. “That’s where I live. We don’t get a lot of customers, so I usually stay up there. I hope I didn’t give you a start.”

“A little bit,” Will laughed, holding his hat against the wind.

“Let me get your luggage,” the man offered.

“It’s fine, I only have the overnight bag.”

Will grabbed the bag and clutched it over his head as the two of them dashed for the office. Once inside, the man stepped behind the counter and pushed the guest registry forward. Will studied him now that he could get a good look. He had striking, distinctly noble features; a Roman nose and thin but prominent lips that gave him a serene appearance. He seemed oddly out of place in a back road motel like this. His hair was damp across his forehead from the rain and his white shirt clung to him. Even so, he had an air of elegance about him.

“Sign here, please,” the man said, offering him a pen.

Will hesitated for a moment then signed the registry “Will Samuels.” He looked up to see that the man had cocked his head to the side and was watching him write with curiosity.

“Nice to meet you, Will,” he said. His voice had a low, murmuring quality to it that was very pleasant and almost lulling. “I am Hannibal Lecter, the caretaker.”

Will pulled off his straw hat and Hannibal grew still and gazed back at him with interest. When Will held out his hand, Hannibal shook it and his amber-colored eyes darted over him quickly, as if taking an inventory. Will felt them keenly. He wrinkled his brow and tossed his head slightly. The caretaker’s jaw twitched and a glimmer of a smirk passed over his lips.

“Our rooms are seven dollars a night,” Hannibal told him. He leaned forward on the counter, straight shoulders moving under his wet shirt. His eyes were still as active as ever, trained on Will’s face, blinking and narrowing as though loaded with unspoken thoughts.

Will paid and Hannibal cast him one last glance before giving him the key to room one.

“It’s right next door, to your left, as you exit.”

When the young man left the office Hannibal waited until he heard the muffled thump of room one’s door closing and a faint shuffling from within. He stood straight, with his head tilted for a moment. He winced and passed his tongue over his bottom lip. Finally, he strode back into the parlor behind the office and closed the door.

On the wall there hung a small framed print of Leda and the Swan. He paused as if hesitating, and then lifted it off of the hanger and set it on the table. Hidden behind the painting was a hole carved away in the first layer of wall. The interior layer was pricked with a small crack. Hannibal leaned in and peered through the crack to the room beyond.

This visitor was quite handsome. Hannibal liked the way he curled; at his hair, his dark eyelashes, the corners of his mouth. He also liked the way he reacted to being looked at; anxious and maybe a little indignant. Will moved into the bathroom and Hannibal followed him down the wall to another painting, a print of Audubon’s Tree Swallow. Behind it, the hole led directly into the shower stall. Will undressed and climbed into the shower. Hannibal admired the jut of his shoulder blades, the indent of his spine and the round peach-shape of his ass. He ran his hand over the front of his trousers, then unzipped his fly and slipped his fingers inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Will spent the day in his motel room, flipping channels on the spindle-legged Luxor TV. The thought of getting back out on the road again made him nervous. He was constantly battling the panic that rose up in his chest and throat. Anything to distract him would be a boon.

Finally, when dusk fell, he wandered outside and began to explore the land around the motel. He came across a marsh covered in cattails. The buzzing sound of insects overrode the nagging thoughts in his head. A trail of cleared greenery led into the water. Will pulled off his shoes and socks, rolled up his trousers, and waded in. The cool water was a mercy in the heat.

“You should head back,” a voice called out.

Will jumped and whirled around in the water. The caretaker stood at the edge of the marsh, with his hands in his pockets.

“What was that?” Will asked. He thought his heart had stopped for a few seconds there.

“That’s a bog,” Hannibal pointed out. “A few more feet and you would be sucked right under.”

“Oh!” Will climbed out and picked up his shoes from the bank. “Thank you.”

He felt a bit entertained by the notion that a man on the lam, with $40,000 in his possession, would suddenly just disappear into a quiet marsh and never be heard from again. It was almost romantic.

“How are you enjoying your stay?” Hannibal asked.

Will sat on a tuft of grass and pulled on his shoes. He stuffed his socks into his pants’ pocket.

“Very well, thank you,” he replied.

“I thought you should know,” Hannibal went on, “If you see a little girl running around, maybe going in and out of the rooms… that is my sister, Mischa.”

Will shook his head.

“I’ve been inside all day.”

“Well, she likes to play in the rooms sometimes,” Hannibal said. “I let her because… it’s not as though she’s disturbing anyone.”

“She wouldn’t disturb me, I’m sure.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Would you do me a favor?” He asked, “Would you have dinner with me? Mischa has eaten and gone to bed already and I would enjoy the company.”

Will smiled and shrugged.

“That sounds just fine. Up at the house?”

“Uh, no, I’d rather keep things quiet for my sister. She’s not feeling very well.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“If you wait by the office, I will get the food.”

Will smiled as Hannibal walked up toward the house. He approached the door to the office and leaned against the wall. Soon Hannibal returned carrying a platter with a dome cover on it.

“Back here,” he said, leading Will into the parlor. “Eating in an office is just too officious, wouldn’t you say?”

Will chuckled. He looked around the room. It was very pleasant, despite its cramped size. A small table stood in the middle of the room with a vase of orchids. There were no windows, but the paintings of birds on the walls gave it an airy feel.

His host set down the tray and removed the lid. Underneath were various cold cuts, pickled shallots, cornichons, coarse-ground mustard, and hunks of warm artisan bread. Will sat and with a gesture from Hannibal, began to serve himself. He put together a hearty sandwich and dug in. Soon he noticed that Hannibal was looking at him with an amused expression. He brushed the front of his face with a napkin and looked around the room for conversational inspiration.

“Fan of birds?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Hannibal replied. “Many cultural mythologies designate birds as the ambassadors of the spirit world. They deliver messages, bring omens, and at some point, almost every society believed birds carried our souls to the afterlife.”

Will gestured at the painting of Leda and the Swan and said, “That’s an odd one.”

The figure of Leda was draped over the bed with her nakedness exposed. The docile swan lay his neck in front of her.

“Boucher’s Leda and the Swan. It is unusual. In it, the violence is sensualized… depicted as beautiful.”

“There is beauty in violence, sometimes,” Will mused. Hannibal turned to him with a raised chin and a probing expression in his eyes. The young man felt self-conscious and added, “A very dissociated beauty, of course.”

“Any appreciation of beauty in this world requires a certain amount of dissociation,” Hannibal stated.

Will smiled as he ate.

“Separate the ugly?”

“Reinterpret the ugly. Grant it a new utility.”

“Literally or figuratively?” Will asked.

“Try both,” Hannibal replied. “For example, there was once a tribe in South America that would perform a sacred music ritual upon human corpses. The drumbeat for this was usually performed on what had been the body of an enemy: the skin had been flayed and the belly stretched to form a drum, and the whole body acted as a sound box while throbbings came out of the open mouth. I try to imagine what that would sound like, what manner of music would emerge.”

“Not the most appetizing notion.”

Hannibal closed his eyes with a gracious dip of his head.

“Apologies,” he said. “I hope I haven’t spoiled your appetite.”

Will granted a cordial chuckle, “Not at all.” He paused and then added, “That’s a mesmerizing thought; a human musical instrument. Grotesque… but effective.”

Hannibal smiled and Will continued to eat as a sign of good faith. The man seemed to enjoy watching him put food into his mouth and Will found himself eating more delicately, biting slowly, to provide him with something to move his eyes over. It was strange, but he felt a strong desire to give him good company. Generally Will despised chit-chat, but he was enjoying this conversation.

“You must be an avid reader,” he said.

“Reading is how I fill my time.”

“Is your time very empty out here?”

“They moved the highway a few years back,” Hannibal explained. “This beaten path doesn’t bring many visitors to our door.”

“I got off the main road,” Will said. “I think I lost my way.”

“You don’t seem in any hurry to find it again.”

“The unexpected pleasure of being hopelessly lost,” Will replied with a grin.

“What are you running away from?”

Will’s eyes turned upward and he stiffened. He noticed that Hannibal had cocked his head and was leaning forward at the first sign of his physical response.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Feeling lost decreases one’s fear of being found,” Hannibal responded, then sat back in his chair once more.

Will’s hair stood on end, but he tried his best to appear nonchalant.

“I wanted to rebut the belief that I was in an inescapable situation.”

“You spotted a trap, and avoided it, like a perceptive creature,” Hannibal answered.

Will locked eyes with him. He wondered if he could share his secret with the man. Perhaps that would be his redemption. No one in the world need know, save for the caretaker of a back road motel who shared his hospitality with him for an evening.

He just sighed and said, “I think that we're all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out. We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch.”

“Sometimes we deliberately step into those traps. Or, at the very least, stumble blindly from one directly into another.”

Will felt a sting at the back of his throat. He felt the unnerving sensation that this strange man could see into his thoughts and was offering him insight on a situation he couldn’t possibly know about.

“It’s a delirious form of madness,” he whispered.

“We all go a little mad sometimes,” Hannibal replied, tapping his fingers on the table. “Madness can be a medicine for the modern world. You take it in moderation, it’s beneficial.”

“You overdose and it can have unfortunate side effects.”

“Side effects can be temporary,” Hannibal murmured. “They can be a boost to our psychological immune systems to help fight the existential crisis for the normal life.”

“I sincerely hope you are right,” Will sighed.

The buzzer rang in the office and Hannibal stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said, walking out.

As Will stood and watched the man head out to a car in the lot he was stricken with paranoia. He suddenly felt as if his life was nearing a disastrous end. The euphoria of taking the money and skipping town was beginning to wear off, and now he was truly realizing the potential consequences of his actions. Hannibal was right. He had only pulled himself out of one trap to ensnare himself in a much greater one. His mind raced to think of any way he could get out of this.

It was the weekend. He could get back home Monday morning in time to deposit what was left of the money. What he had spent on gas, food, lodging, and the car would be taken out of his hide by Mr. Lowery.

But perhaps that would be enough. If Will showed up at Lowery’s poolside, confessed his sins, and offered him whatever his heart desired… perhaps his boss would agree not to alert the authorities on the matter. He considered being in debt to Lowery, making himself available to him, relinquishing any and all dignity he had left. It was that, or prison. He felt sick and weak in the knees.

No. He would have to see this through until the end. There would be no redemption for Will Graham.

He groaned and leaned hard against the wall. His shoulder bumped the painting of Leda, shifting it to one side. There was something behind it. Will held the painting and looked at the hole cut out of the wall. He leaned forward, and to his surprise he could see the bed in his own room.

“What…” he gasped.

He heard Hannibal returning and he pushed the painting back into place.

“Only someone asking for directions,” Hannibal explained. He smirked at Will and added, “Another lost soul.”

A nervous laugh escaped Will’s throat.

“I, ah…” he stammered, “I think I’ll retire for tonight. Thank you for the food and the… conversation.”

“Any time,” Hannibal said.

Will headed back into his room and leaned against the door. Was Hannibal using that hole to spy on him? He obviously used it for something, but maybe not him. Maybe he wasn’t his type. But he had purposely given him this room, hadn’t he?

He thought of the way Hannibal looked at him, watching with interest as he ate, leaning in when he asked him questions. He stood at the foot of his bed, and looked at the wall. He now noticed the tiny crack from where he could be viewed from the office parlor. He felt suddenly excited. Hannibal was still in there, right now; perhaps even looking at him at that very moment.

Will shifted for a moment, indecisive. Then he began to unbutton his shirt and slowly peeled it away from himself.  He sat on the bed and pulled off his shoes then lay down on his back, his legs dangling over the edge. He lifted a hand and grazed his fingers over his bare belly, moving them down toward the belt of his pants. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. He could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him from that spot on the wall.

Will had been objectified plenty in his life. He was accustomed to the sensation of eyes planted on him, moving over his body like groping hands. He squeezed his eyes shut as he unbuckled his belt. The image of Lowery fanning himself with the money flickered into his thoughts. He remembered the sneering look on his face when he suggested he come by his pool, suggested that there would be compensation for being his “good friend.” To Lowery, and others before him, he was a whore; a pretty plaything readily available to fulfill their fantasies. Time and again, he was in no position to escape from it. So it wore on him, filled him with simmering resentment. This was different. Will was freer now than he had ever been in his life. He had the money, he had the unrestricted movement. He could go anywhere with that wad of cash and cherry car. He could stay in this motel room and actually, for once, enjoy being the object of gaze. This mysterious thoughtful man with the soft, murmuring voice and piercing eyes could make him feel deliriously powerful in his sexuality.

He sighed and pulled open the fly of his pants to reveal a dark patch of pubic hair. He ran his fingers over it and moved his head to the side to be better viewed from the wall. A lurching sensation shivered through his belly and a soft, coy sigh escaped his lips. He stood up and glanced at his own reflection in the mirror near the crack in the wall and took on the point of view that he imagined Hannibal would have of him. He put his hands on the small of his back and stretched, allowing his pants to hang low on his hips and reveal the V-shape of his pelvic muscle. He turned his back to the wall and pulled off his pants and underwear, then looked over his shoulder at the mirror once more. He crossed an arm over his chest and gripped the opposite shoulder, massaging it as he stood contrapposto like a saintly figure in a painting.

Seeing the image in the mirror and imagining Hannibal watching thrilled him. His erection swelled as he put on his most coquettish expression and rested his chin on his shoulder. He could be his whore. Just for the time being, as he was at liberty to leave whenever he chose. He could be his fantasy.

He climbed into bed on top of the covers. Gripping the bedspread, he began to hump the mattress, slowly and sensually. He pulled a couple of pillows in front of him, rolled over on his back and reached down to fondle himself. He stretched out his neck and laid his head back on the pillow, licking and biting his lip as he played with his cock.

 _Come and join me_ , he thought. He wanted to say it, loud enough for Hannibal to hear him. _Stop watching me and come fuck me._

He licked a finger, spread his legs open and began to probe between his ass cheeks and over his hole while he stroked himself. He strained his ears trying to hear any sign of the man behind the wall. He fingered himself deeper and sighed loudly, and moaned in a pleasant creaking voice.

 _God…_ he kept thinking, _come in through that door right now and fuck me raw._

The door didn’t open. But the thought of what would happen if it did drove Will over the edge. He humped his hand and fucked himself with his finger until his body broke into spasms and he cried out as he splashed cum over his hand and belly.

He slept on top of the covers, body draped elegantly across the mattress. The disappointing thought that perhaps Hannibal wasn’t watching him at all, and didn’t intend to, occurred to him again. Still, it was the possibility that was so exciting.

On the other side of the wall, Hannibal backed away until he bumped into the table. He looked down, eyes darted in confused thought. The visitor had put on a show. Did he know he was being watched? What was he playing at? His arousal was intense, but he couldn’t even bring himself to masturbate. He grimaced and turned away from the painting.

Far off, from the house on the hill, he heard the sound of Mischa calling out his name.


	3. Chapter 3

Will woke in the morning to the sound of the door of the room next to his opening. He heard Hannibal’s voice through the wall. It was a happy tone, followed by a soft laugh. He got dressed and walked outside in the relative cool of the morning.

God, he loved that car. He admired the way it gleamed in the sun. It was the zephyr that transported him from hopelessness to freedom. He rubbed a spot on the fender with his thumb and leaned against it, stretching out his legs as he lit a cigarette.

Hannibal exited the motel room and stopped for a moment when he saw Will. The young man crossed his legs in front of him and draped an arm over the hood of the car. He flashed him the best “come hither” look that he could manage. He smiled when Hannibal walked his way.

“Good morning!” he called.

“Good morning,” Hannibal answered. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.”

Hannibal stood next to him, looking over his alluring casual pose. Will tilted his head and winked a bit in the glare of the sunlight as he took a drag.

“Will you be staying long?” Hannibal asked.

Will straightened and dropped the cigarette on the gravel, stamping it out with his foot.

“I haven’t decided,” he replied.

“That’s odd,” Hannibal mused.

“I suppose it is.”

“You don’t have a destination in mind, do you?” Hannibal pried.

Will crossed his arms in front of him and lowered his head. A pained grin spread over his face.

“Anywhere but that inescapable situation,” Hannibal added.

“You are so certain I’m running from something.”

Hannibal leaned forward, his amber eyes gleaming as he spoke in a lowered voice, “I noticed you hesitated before writing your name in the registry.”

Will chuckled. His throat strained and he tried to rub out the muscle between his neck and shoulder.

“You strike me as the type to notice a lot of things.”

“So I do,” Hannibal responded.

Will thought for a moment. He looked around at the empty space that surrounded Lecter Motel. He was in a strange, obscure place, apart from anything resembling the real world. Everything that happened here felt as though it could be kept separate from it.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I wrote a false name.”

Hannibal nodded, his eyes still trained on Will’s face. He seemed particularly interested in watching his lips move. The way they trembled and smirked, parted to show his white, slightly fanged teeth when he was nervous.

“So you are running away from something.”

Will gripped the back of his neck.

“I ah…” he released a nervous chortle, “I am running away from some _one_.”

“What sort of someone?”

“A predator,” Will answered. “Someone who thought they could take advantage of me. I really wanted to prove them wrong, you see. It was the only thing that mattered at the time. I might have made a mess of things.”

Will couldn’t handle making eye contact at this point. Hannibal’s eyes were so alert, so pointed. They seemed to push and pull simultaneously. When he did occasionally look into them, he felt a twinge of anxiety, but an exhilarating sort. Now he kept him in his periphery, knowing very well that he was being watched more closely than he had ever experienced.

“What kind of mess?” Hannibal finally asked.

“I burned bridges, I guess you could say,” Will replied. “There’s no way I can go back now.”

“And so you are hiding out here?”

“I really don’t want to drag you into my world,” Will said.

“Anyway,” Hannibal moved closer. His voice was low and hypnotic. “I enjoy the company.”

Will twitched a bit as he looked up. His eyes fluttered and his nose flared as he forced himself to lock gazes with the man.

“Just do me a favor,” Will whispered with a smile. “If anyone comes looking for me, you didn’t see me.”

Hannibal noticed the dimples on Will Graham’s cheeks when he showed him his shy smile. He imagined himself leaning down and pressing his lips against them, passing his tongue over his curling soft lips. He felt a strange buzzing in his ears. He suddenly backed away and put his hands on his head.

“What’s the matter?” Will asked.

“You can’t stay here,” Hannibal called, turning away.

“Wait, what?”

“You’ve done something bad, haven’t you?”

Will shifted his feet and coughed.

“I have a sister to worry about!” Hannibal said, looking back at him and gesturing with his hand.

“What… Hannibal,” Will stammered, “I’m not dangerous, I swear to you.”

“I’ve heard that before!” Hannibal shouted.

“What does that mean?”

“Please!” Hannibal begged, and his voice was alarmingly desperate. “Please, just go.”

Hannibal’s head turned to the motel like an animal sensing a hunter.

“I’m coming!” he called out, and ran to the room.

“I didn’t hear anything!” Will cried after him. “Hannibal, wait… please let me explain myself.”

Hannibal disappeared into the room. Will cursed and kicked the gravel. How could he have misread the situation so completely? He clutched his head in his hands and bowed at the waist, growling in frustration. Hannibal came out of the room once more and Will watched him run up to his house on the hill.

Once inside the house, Hannibal paced the sitting room floor, muttering to himself. He knew there was something strange about that boy. The way he strip-teased in his room when he shouldn’t have known anyone was watching. Dirty siren boy, pulling at him with painful magnetism, luring him into his web. Hannibal wanted him so badly. He wanted to take him apart! He knocked a vase off of the coffee table and screamed at nothing. Bubbling, black tar was rising inside of him. It was coming out from underneath his fingernails and at the corners of his eyes like thick, hot tears.

It wasn’t Will’s fault, he told himself. It was himself. Will was innocent, and good like Mischa. He could see it in his eyes that were so full of pain and regret and loneliness. Then why did he touch himself like that? Why did he make him feel like a ravenous monster ready to devour him whole?

He was projecting, he insisted, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, calming himself. That’s what he’d read about in his psychology books. He had put the hole in the wall. He had watched the man when he was meant to have privacy. That was on him. He was evil. He was a predator, just like the person Will said he was trying to escape from! He felt sick.

Yes, Will had to go. Not because he was bad, but because he was good. He couldn’t punish him like he did those other nasty tenants who were so foul-mouthed and disgusting that he felt their putrid blood on his skin long after nearly scrubbing it clean off with soap and scalding hot water. No, he would warn him. Chase him off before he could do him any harm.

Will watched the house on the hill for any movement. It stood tall and thin against the emptiness like a dead tree with no branches. He looked back at the door to room three. He hadn’t heard any sound when Hannibal seemed to. Furrowing his brow, he walked toward it.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The air smelled strange, laced with chemicals. His eyes fell on the back of a little girl sitting in a chair. Her golden hair was plaited in smooth braids.

“Mischa?” he asked. The girl didn’t move. Will stepped closer. “My name is Will. I just wanted to see that you were okay. Your brother said you weren’t feeling…”

He put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and froze. It felt eerily thin under his hand. Every instinctive nerve in him seemed to reel back from the touch. He stepped around her and looked down toward her face.

A gruesome skeletal mask stared back at him. The eye sockets were sunken and empty, and her skin was stretched gray and taut over the bones of her skull. Will cried out and stumbled away, mouth agape and eyes blinking. Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt a strong grip envelope his body. A forearm wrapped around his throat and lips pressed against his ear.

“Ssh…” he could hear Hannibal whispering to him.

Will’s vision grew spotty. As he sank into unconsciousness, he stared ahead at the preserved corpse of Mischa Lecter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: It's called "Psycho" not "Cuddle-Fest with a Reasonable Individual." Reader discretion is advised.

Hannibal Lecter went over Will’s room with precision. He gathered everything up that belonged to him and put it in a hamper. Then he cleaned the room thoroughly. He plucked the car keys from the bowl on the room desk and headed outside.

The bog was always hungry, and virtually bottomless. Lecter watched as the burgundy convertible was slowly swallowed up by the water. Murky clouds of mud belched up as it was sucked down into the sludge. When the rear bumper submerged beneath the quagmire and the water grew flat and quiet, he headed back toward the house.

Will opened his eyes. He felt something tight around his throat, and reached up a hand to touch it. Cold metal under his fingers. He sat up and heard the sound of a chain pulling. Behind him, the chain was looped through a thick anchor attached to the wall. He was lying on a bed in a room with drawn curtains. He felt around the collar at his neck and realized that it was padlocked securely. His head pounded. He heard a shuffling sound and jumped.

Hannibal entered the room and Will stood to his feet. The chain was still lax, but he didn’t move forward. Hannibal pulled out the envelope of money and dropped it on the dresser against the wall.

“I can explain,” Will said. His voice sounded far away from him, like a gramophone playing in another room.

“You are a thief, Will?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes, I stole that money,” Will confessed, “But only because I had to.”

“Why did you have to steal tens of thousands of dollars?”

“Because the man I stole it from was trying…” Will fumbled for the words. “He thought he could treat me anyway he wanted to, _use_ me anyway he wanted. He took my freedom, don’t you understand?”

“You are lying,” Hannibal accused. “You are manipulative. You’ve been trying to manipulate me, as well.”

“No!” Will said. “I didn’t mean to do anything to hurt you. I like you, Hannibal, I really do. Please.”

He gripped the collar at his neck.

“Then why were you working so hard to entice me?”

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

“Last night, in your room,” Hannibal explained. “You were… teasing me. Why?”

“So you _were_ watching me!” Will called.

“How did you know that?”

“I found the hole in your parlor wall. I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to see me.”

“Why? Were you trying to trick me? Get me to feel a certain way about you so that you could lure me into your little game?”

“I wanted you to want me!” Will said. When the words escaped his mouth his face felt hot.

“What would I want from you?”

Will retorted, hands flailing, “You tell me, you were the one peeping on me in my room!”

“What result were you hoping to achieve, performing that little seduction of yours?”

“I wanted you to fuck me!”

Hannibal’s eyes widened and Will slouched and sighed.

“I wanted to call out to you, to ask you to join me. I wanted you to come into my room and fuck me so hard… so hard I couldn’t see straight. Is that what you want to hear?”

The electricity in Hannibal’s eyes sparked from within them. Will bit his lip and gazed at him.

“You’re filthy,” Hannibal snarled.

“Why were you looking at me in the first place?”

“Why did you want me to… to fuck you?”

“Why? God!” Will shouted. “Why does anyone want to get fucked? I just wanted you, Hannibal. I desired you. I assumed that if you were really looking through that hole it was because the feeling was mutual.”

Hannibal shifted his weight and glared at him.

Will’s voice grew high and strained and he said, “I’m sorry. I thought you would like it. I’m sorry.”

“Show me again,” Hannibal ordered.

“What?”

“What you did last night. Show me again.”

Will only stared, confused.

“Show me!” Hannibal barked.

Will began to unbutton his shirt, his hands trembling. He pulled it off and then thought for a minute, trying to remember exactly what came next. He sat down on the foot of the bed and pulled off his shoes, then lay back on the mattress. His stomach began to quiver and he felt a strange high come over him. He unbuckled his pants and stroked his fingers through the top of his pubic hair. He looked to the side, at Hannibal, whose arms were crossed and his breath was coming out in labored huffs.

“Please,” Will said in a small voice. “I’m sorry if I offended you. Please don’t hurt me.”

Hannibal seemed hit by a wave. His nostrils flared and his breathing lengthened.

“Keep going,” he growled.

Will stood up, eyes darting around as he thought through his next motion. He placed his hands above his rump and stretched. He couldn’t control the shaking of his body. He turned his back toward Hannibal and pulled off his pants and underwear. Then he imitated the contrapposto position and looked over his shoulder with one hand in place. He pressed his lips against his shoulders and tried to read Hannibal’s expression. He felt panicked, but his cock began to stiffen in spite of his fear. He whimpered against his skin and closed his eyes.

“That’s not how you looked at me,” Hannibal murmured. Will opened his eyes.

“What?”

“That’s not the expression you made last night, when you looked over your shoulder.”

Will felt as though his kneecaps were melting into jelly. Every muscle in his body was twitching. He cast Hannibal a coy, sexually submissive look. He heard him groan and knew he had done right.

“Now get on the bed,” Hannibal instructed.

Will climbed over the mattress and lay on his stomach. He writhed against the bedspread, rubbing his cock over it. Sinking humiliation swept over him. He trembled as he reached for the pillow and rolled over on his back, spreading his legs.

“I am very scared, Hannibal,” he croaked. “You’ve made me scared. Is that what you wanted? Can I please stop now?”

“No,” Hannibal replied. “You will show me how you were last night. Every lascivious, shameful act, you will replicate for me right now.”

Tears welled up in Will’s eyes. His chest hurt, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing excitement he was experiencing. It confused him so much more than his impromptu compulsion for exhibitionism the night before. He stroked his cock, and it swelled even more at his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m disgusting. Please.”

“Finger yourself,” Hannibal commanded in a guttural tone.

Will licked his fingers and pushed them over his hole. A broken moan emitted from his throat and suddenly Hannibal was upon him.

“Don’t hurt me!”

Hannibal slapped him across the face and the tears that beaded in Will’s eyelashes fell over his cheeks. The man forced his hands over his head in held them in place with one arm. With his other hand, Hannibal reached down and grabbed Will by the genitals and squeezed hard.

Will cried out in pain and fear.

“You desired me?” Hannibal snarled, pulling and twisting on Will’s cock and balls.

Will nodded his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Look at me!” Hannibal spat. Will obeyed. He felt as though his heart was seizing. Hannibal’s hand felt as though it was crushing him, and he still felt horribly aroused.

“You wanted me to fuck you?” he continued.

Will nodded again.

“Yes,” he could barely whisper.

Hannibal jumped off of him and strode out of the room. Will felt himself go into spasms on the bed. He had never felt closer to death, and his body was lurching and wriggling uncontrollably. When Hannibal returned, marching toward him with purpose, Will cried out and rolled into a ball. Hannibal pushed him on his back and unfolded him. He held a strange device in his hand.

“No…” Will squeaked as Hannibal held him down and began to attach it to his genitals. It was a chastity device, complete with a lock. He clamped it shut and it squeezed mercilessly on Will’s erection.

“Please,” Will begged, “Oh god, take it off.”

“You’re a whore,” Hannibal whispered into his ear. Goosebumps scattered over the nape of Will’s neck.

“I’m a whore,” Will repeated. “Please…”

“You’re going to wear this, for your own good.”

Will was terrified, but it dawned on him that if Hannibal wanted him to wear something it probably meant he wasn’t going to kill him. At least, not yet. Then again, he did have a corpse in his motel that he apparently treated like a living girl.

“It hurts,” Will sniffled.

“Good.”

Hannibal lifted off of him and flipped him over on his belly again.

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Will stood to his knees and Hannibal pushed him by the upper back down to the mattress, so that his ass was raised.

“Show me what you want,” he hissed.

Will’s cock strained against its cage. It ached terribly as he leaked onto the mattress.

“I don’t know what you…”

“Show me what a whore you are!”

Will reached back and ran his hands over his ass. He spread apart the cheeks and probed his fingers between them.

“Hannibal,” he whimpered, “I want you to fuck me. Please… fuck me.”

He tried to look over his shoulder at the man, but he moved to the side.

“I need you to…” he began and then gasped when he felt rough hands grabbing his hips. He heard the sound of a zipper pulling and felt cold liquid dripping down his crack. He shuddered and moaned when fingers pushed inside of him. “Fuck… me…”

The penetrating sensation combined with the firm grip of the chastity device on his cock was overwhelming. His mouth was watering and his eyes were blurring. He pushed back against Hannibal’s fingers and groaned into the pillow.

“Mmm…”

Hannibal pulled his fingers out and guided his cock inside of him.

“Oh…” Will panted, arching his back.

Hannibal thrust into him, hard, and Will grunted and cried out as Hannibal began to fuck him. Fuck him until he _couldn’t see straight_. The bed slammed against the wall with a dull thump, thump, thump. Tears rolled down Will’s cheeks as his eyes turned upward and his mouth gaped open against the pillow.

He heard a gruff snarl and felt Hannibal push into him slower now, and then he felt the heat of his cum inside of him.

As soon as he pulled out, Hannibal stalked out of the room, leaving Will to sink to his belly, sore and used up. His genitals throbbed with need. His eyelids fluttered and he felt his mind floating away from him. Everything he was before melted into silvery fluid at the back of his brain. The job, the money, the car, everything seemed to descend into that ethereal pool.

The constant mantra he had in his head back then, that this was his life now, came back to him. _This is my life now_ , he thought as he curled up into fetal position.


	5. Chapter 5

“Not that I would want to lose the revenue,” Jack Crawford pointed out, “But why haven’t you gone to the police on this matter? This is $40,000 we’re talking about here.”

Mr. Lowery sat in front of a desk in the office of Crawford and Katz, private investigators. Beverly Katz stood next to the window with her arms crossed, her thin eyebrows persistently raised in alert inquisitiveness.

“I would rather handle this matter privately,” Lowery answered. “If he’ll give the money back, I won’t press charges. No sense in ruining a boy’s life over something that can be regained, right?”

“That’s very magnanimous of you, Mr. Lowery,” Jack said.

“What can you tell us about Will Graham?” Beverly asked.

“Well, he’s a charmer, that one,” Lowery explained. “Manipulative. Made me believe he liked me, you know, saw me as a father figure maybe. Got me to trust him.”

Beverly looked at the photograph of Will that Mr. Lowery had given them. It showed him standing next to the young man with his arm around his shoulder and his hand draped around his neck. Will smiled and leaned into it, but there was stiffness in his body, a stretched-thin look to his expression. The fingers of Lowery’s hand seemed to clutch at him. _Father figure_ , she scoffed to herself.

“And you still want to forgive him?” she pried.

“I want to give him the chance to make it up to me,” Lowery said. “You tell him that, would you? Tell him he can come to me and we’ll work something out.”

Beverly nodded with a smirk and handed the photograph to Jack.

“You be careful with him, though,” Lowery warned. “Like I said, he’s a real charmer. He might try to wile his way out of it. Might try to tell you some sob-story, like, I dunno, maybe I mistreated him or something. Don’t buy it.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Jack muttered. “Thank you, Mr. Lowery. We’ll get back to you if we find anything on him.”

When the customer had left the office, Jack sat back in his leather chair and lit a thick cigar. He puffed on it for a few moments, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes.

Finally he turned to Beverly and asked, “What do you think of this Lowery character?”

“I think it’s not magnanimity that keeps him from calling the police.”

“You think he wants to hurt this kid?”

Beverly screwed up her mouth and replied, “I think he wants to use him, is what I think. Regardless of my opinion of Lowery, we have a rentboy running mad-dash with 40 grand. He’s just asking for trouble at this point.”

Jack nodded and tossed the photograph onto his desk.

“Check the DMV records for Will Graham,” he instructed. “See if we can’t sniff out a trail.”

* * *

Will felt the heat of the sun on his neck and shoulders. He could hear the sound of that glorious car engine and Elvis Presley’s “I Beg of You” on the radio.

_You got me at your mercy, now that I'm in love with you. So please, don't take advantage 'cause you know my love is true._

The breeze took the edge off of the heat as well as the bottle of Coca-Cola, wet with condensation, in his hand. The road in front of him was flat and open, surrounded by golden fields. The view in his rear-view mirror: somewhere to which he never wished to return.

Suddenly he felt a churning anxious feeling creeping over him like cockroaches, intruding on his happiness. Paranoia, and the fear of all things coming to an end. Not even the glint off the silver trim on his car could distract him. It was the same feeling he had in the parlor as it dawned on him that this plan of his was not sustainable. It was the sickening realization that there was a price to pay for his attempts at happiness.

His eyes grew blurry and when he felt the mattress underneath of him it knocked the wind out of him, as though his dream had dropped him from a height. Blinking and rubbing his face against his warm pillow, he slowly came back to the present and the recollection of where he was.

It didn’t seem real at first. Every memory of the past few days seemed like a sepia-toned photograph stuck inside of an album. The windows to the room he was in were nailed shut. Even so, he was on the second story with nothing to grasp onto for a climb down. At least he could see the rising and the falling of the sun, which let him know how many days had passed.

The chain on his neck was long enough to reach the small bathroom next to his room, and he was able to urinate through the device on his genitals and shower in the stall. He attempted to fondle himself through the cage, but it only made him swell painfully inside it. He found himself humping at his blankets, the mattress, anything he could rub up against.

Hannibal brought in books, clothing, and food while he slept. He hadn’t even seen the man since his first night in the room. He sometimes pretended to be asleep so that he could see him when he came in, but Hannibal always seemed to know when he was awake.

_He’s watching me still_ , he thought.

He remembered how he wanted to call out to him from his motel room to come join him, to fuck him. He heard a shuffling against the wall near his bed and he scanned it for a hole or a crack. There was a little pin-prick there. Perhaps it was only from a nail used to hang a picture frame once. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them.

“Hannibal?” he finally called out. His voice sounded strange in the little room, like it was wrapped in cloth. “Please… just come talk to me?”

He heard a shuffle again, and then the sound of a key in the door. He felt simultaneously satisfied and anxious.

Hannibal walked in, his head lowered so that his sandy brown hair fell across his forehead.

“Do you need anything?” he asked. “More books, something to eat or drink?”

Will made the decision to use the man’s name as often as possible. He spoke to him in a soft, almost lilting voice, “No. I’m just lonely, Hannibal.”

Hannibal looked up, his eyebrows lifting. His face seemed to clear of all lines and he walked toward the chair next to Will’s bed and sat down. Will’s eyes lingered over the man’s hands. He was folding and rubbing them together.

“I’ve mistreated you,” Hannibal confessed. “For that, I apologize.”

Will summoned his sweetest, most commiserating smile.

“We all go a little mad sometimes.”

Hannibal smiled, revealing flat teeth.

“And now I am faced with those unfortunate side-effects.”

“What to do with me?” Will asked, turning his wide eyes upward and wrinkling his brow. He was cautious.

Hannibal closed his eyes and dropped his head very slightly.

“I saw you coming up behind Mischa,” he murmured. “I was afraid you would hurt her. After that, I’m afraid I lost my bearings.”

Will knew that was only half true regarding Hannibal’s outburst. There was something deeper there that had nothing to do with him finding the girl. It was a frustrated, sanctimonious rage that was triggered by sexual arousal. Will had not only pulled a trigger, he flung himself over the landmine. He had threatened Hannibal, and now he had to make himself as unthreatening as possible.

“I would never harm a child, Hannibal. I was only checking in on her.”

Hannibal nodded and said, “I see that now.”

“How is… Mischa?” Will inquired.

“She isn’t quite herself,” Hannibal answered. “She hasn’t been the same since…”

“Since what?”

Hannibal took a deep breath.

“A few years back, some tenants stayed in the motel. Mischa was playing in one of the rooms, as she often does. They found her in there and… attacked her. I was too late.”

“Too late?”

A strange expression passed over Hannibal’s face. He looked to be realizing something, and then pushed the thought deep down into a watery bog.

“I was like a parent to my sister,” Hannibal told him. “She was not my child, but she was my charge.”

“Did they find the men who attacked her?” Will asked.

“I found the men who attacked her,” Hannibal answered.

Will locked eyes with him and inferred his full meaning.

“Tenants have come and gone, Will,” Hannibal explained. “Some are courteous, some are not. Discourtesy is… unspeakably ugly to me.”

Will swallowed. How many tenants had he lost his bearings over?

“I hope you don’t find me discourteous,” Will said.

“No,” Hannibal replied. “For the first time in a long while, I see a possibility of friendship.”

Will placed his hand on Hannibal’s arm.

“I can tell you are a good man, Hannibal. You love your sister. You would never hurt me.”

He spoke in a rhythmic manner, like a hypnotic refrain that he wished Hannibal would repeat to himself within his own mind. _I am a good man. I love my sister. I would never hurt Will._

Hannibal looked down at the hand on his arm and then back at Will with a knowing smirk. Will’s face fell and he felt his ears flush. Hannibal knew exactly what he was trying to pull, speaking to him that way. Despite everything, there was something frighteningly sane about the man. He fumbled for a grasp at sincerity.

“I… I’m just scared. I don’t know what to expect. If you could tell me…”

“Don’t be afraid,” Hannibal said. He stood up. “If there’s anything more I can do for you, let me know.”

Will gestured at the front of his trousers.

“Can you take this thing off of me, please? It hurts quite a lot.”

“It can only be painful if one is aroused. Are you aroused, Will?”

Of course he was aroused. He had been, near constantly, for the past three days. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to tell Hannibal that, though, considering how he had reacted before. Then again… Will’s thoughts of Hannibal reacting once more in a similar fashion only made him stiffen within his cage. He was unsure of what he wanted more, reward or punishment.

Hannibal ignored his silence and pulled the key out of his pocket. He began to unbutton Will’s trousers and the young man lay back on the bed with his hands over his face. He groaned in relief when Hannibal had unlocked the device and pulled it off of him. His erection swelled and Will peeked at Hannibal from behind his hands. He was staring at Will’s cock, nostrils flaring and the muscles tightening in his neck. Will considered reaching out for him, or perhaps giving him a suggestive look. Baiting the monster. It was too terrifying a prospect.

He only whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Hannibal shook his head and straightened up again.

“It’s only the blood returning to your organs.”

Will nodded and Hannibal left the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Beverly had finally seen enough of gas stations and wayside diners. A car dealership in Virginia had sold a new car to someone with Will Graham’s plates, and now she was doing the tedious work of asking at every stop on the way westbound if they had seen the man. She decided to check the back roads and tried her luck at a fill-‘er-up off the usual route.

“Yeah, I seen ‘im,” the attendant said, taking a look at her photograph. “Snazzy convertible; seemed a bit jumpy. He was heading southwest.”

She had picked up his trail.

“Gotcha,” she whispered to herself as she headed down the country road.

* * *

Will had been leaving the bathroom door wide open when he showered. He stepped out and toweled himself off in front of the doorway. He glanced over at the hole in the wall and gave his hair an impudent shake. His quicksilver blue eyes connected with it in a glowering dare. As he ran the towel past his shackle and over his collarbone and the lean muscles of his shoulders and upper arms, he reached down and played with his cock.

The other day he had done this and heard a soft thump on the other side of the wall, as if a hand was slapped against it. He sauntered toward the hole and put his hands behind his head, massaging the back of his neck and stretching.

“For god sake, come and take me,” he whispered. There had been no reply.

Today he splayed out on the bed on his back, one arm behind his head and the other hand pushing between his legs, playing with himself. He arched his back upward and ran his fingers over his ass as he sucked air between his pouting lips.

Every day he acted out another routine for the man behind the peephole. It was like playing an exhilarating game of Russian roulette. He preened and posed and waited, ears keen to any sound that his audience was reacting.

He pushed a finger inside of himself and released a soft sigh as he rolled his head to the side and nibbled the flesh of his upper arm. He heard something. His hips dropped to the mattress and he looked over at the hole.

The key rattled in the door and it flew open. Will sat up. His heart palpitated in panic. The chamber held a bullet this time and maybe he wasn’t prepared for it. Maybe he’d made a mistake.

The doorway was empty. He heard heavy footsteps descending the staircase, a scraping sound from the first floor, and footsteps ascending once more. Will considered leaping out of bed and pulling on some clothes; putting on a show of modesty. It was no use, he was frozen.

Hannibal entered with a chair under one arm and a pair of handcuffs in his hand. His head was lowered and he was glaring upward with intent. He put the chair down on the floor. It had a rubber peg attached to it. Hannibal had built something.

“What is that?” Will stammered.

Hannibal came to his bedside and towered over him. His chest was puffed out and his arms hung broad at his sides.

“Are you so insatiable?” he asked.

Will felt saliva filling his mouth and throat, causing him to swallow repeatedly. His adam’s apple bobbed on his craned neck. He gazed up at Hannibal with knit brow.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Hannibal’s hands were upon him in a moment, lifting him up and out of the bed. Will couldn’t gather his wits to protest. Hannibal grabbed the bottle of lotion from the bedside table and took a dollop of it in his hands. He bent Will over and slathered it between his ass cheeks and probed his fingers inside of him. Will made a bleating sound and clutched at Hannibal’s leg.

Then Hannibal brought him back up, pushed him in front of the chair and ordered, “Sit.”

Will stared back at his captor, his mouth parting slowly as his eyes darted over him questioningly. Hannibal took his face in his hands, squeezing his cheeks between his fingers and forming an O-shaped pout on the young man’s lips.

“Sit,” he hissed.

Will was shaking so that bending at the knees was clumsy and wobbling. The rubber peg pushed against his ass crack, barely giving way.

“Put it inside of you,” Hannibal instructed.

Will nodded in obedience and guided the peg slowly into his ass. His mouth fell open and he gasped as it stretched him.

“All the way, sit down.”

Will whimpered as he settled down entirely onto it. Hannibal took his arms and cuffed them through the bars of the chair. Then he lifted Will’s legs up and wrapped the chain from his collar behind his knees and around his whole body twice. His thighs spread open, pushing against the chains.

Hannibal stood back and admired his handiwork. He could see the peg entering his stretched ass hole, his stiff cock between his legs, and the beautiful, frightened face looking back at him from between his knees.

Hannibal grasped Will’s testicles in his hand and pulled on them, eliciting a shocked squeak. He bundled them in his hand and began to slap them with his other palm. Will wriggled in his chains and shook his head violently.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he pleaded.

Hannibal couldn’t contain a pleased snarl as he watched the young man beg and squirm. His dark eyelashes grew wet and his distressed noises came out in thrilling chirps. He smacked him again and again until Will was nearly sobbing.

Finally Hannibal released him and Will was shuddering and panting as he gaped up at him. Hannibal pushed his fingers through Will’s still-damp curls.

“Is this what you are?” Hannibal whispered, “A whore, desperate for anything to fill up your holes?”

Will’s lips trembled as he turned his head toward Hannibal’s arm and pressed them against his wrist in a kiss. His shaky breath was hot against his skin. Hannibal took him by the back of the neck and pulled him as far forward as his cuffs would allow, pushing the peg deeper into him. His raspy moan sent static electricity through Hannibal’s skin and nerves. He pulled his cock from the front of his trousers and squeezed Will’s cheeks together again, popping his soft lips open.

Will took him into his mouth and tried not to gag as Hannibal thrust forward. He grasped the young man by his hair and held him in place while he fucked his mouth. Will was thoroughly filled, and his own cock leaked pre-cum onto the floor.

“What are you doing to me?” Hannibal growled as he pushed in and out.

The sound of Will sucking him filled him with delight, the sight of his wet blue eyes gazing longingly upward from between his legs, euphoric. He was brought near the edge and pulled out of his mouth, leaving fleshy lips parted and wet. Hannibal stroked himself until he spilled his cum onto Will’s stretched throat and collar.

He released his grip on his hair and Will bowed his head, breathless. Hannibal tucked himself away, looked over his toy once more, and strode out of the room. A desperate whine escaped Will’s throat as the door shut behind him.

* * *

Will strained against his chains, trying to find a way to relieve his sore muscles. He didn’t know how long he had been like this, peg pushed inside of him, legs quaking in their raised position. Hannibal’s cum left dry stains on his skin. He felt thoroughly debased. His cock was constantly in various states of stiffness.

When Hannibal returned, it swelled again. He felt a twinge of self-loathing at that. His toes were curling and his entire body shuddering and covered in sweat. He leaned back against the chair and watched as Hannibal crossed the room.

“Have you had enough?” his captor asked.

Will bit his lip and nodded emphatically. Hannibal unlocked his handcuffs and pulled the chain away from his body. Will’s feet slowly lowered to the floor and he winced as the peg slid further in. Hannibal tucked his arms underneath Will’s and carefully lifted him up off it. He helped him walk on unsteady feet to the bed and lay him down.

“Why do you tease me like that?” Hannibal asked, brushing his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know… I like…” Will sniffed and pressed his face against the pillow. A thought occurred to him and he turned his head over his shoulder. “Beauty in violence.”

Hannibal smiled and climbed into bed next to him. Will pressed his body against the man and whispered, “What are you doing to me?”


	7. Chapter 7

After driving for hours, Will Graham’s tracks disappeared. Beverly drove up and down the adjacent roads and for hundreds of miles no one had seen him.

 _He’s stopped_ , she thought.

When she had first driven past Lecter Motel, she assumed it was closed. There were no cars in the lot and the sign was not lit up. She passed it again and this time she noticed that there was, in fact, a very dim light in the office building. She pulled up and rolled over the signal cables. After a few moments, a man came out of one of the rooms carrying linens. As he approached, he halted for a moment and seemed to be looking at her plates, which were from Maryland. She thought she saw an ephemeral hesitation pass over his face, but then he walked toward her with a friendly smile.

“Need a room?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” Beverly answered. “My name is Beverly Katz, private investigator. I’m just here looking for a fellow who might have passed by.”

“Hannibal Lecter,” the man introduced himself. “We don’t get a lot of guests here these days.”

“Well I imagine not,” Beverly pointed out. “Your sign isn’t on. You know, I’ve seen a lot of hotels in the past few days but this is the first place that looks like it’s hiding from the world.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, but he chuckled.

“I’ll be honest,” he said, leaning forward. “Some days I just don’t feel like turning it on. Seems pointless.”

“Can I show you a picture?” she asked, pulling the photograph out.

Hannibal tilted his head and took a good look at it. He noticed Lowery’s hand grasping Will’s neck and his lip curled.

“Look familiar?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, “I remember him stopping by for one night and then he left early the next morning.”

Beverly nodded.

“Do you mind?” Hannibal asked, lifting the linens in his arms. “I’m just going to change the sheets in the rooms.”

“Go ahead.”

Hannibal headed to room five and unlocked it.

“You skipped a room,” Beverly mentioned.

“What was that?” Hannibal asked.

Beverly gestured at room three, between one and five on that side of the office.

“That room right there.”

Hannibal licked his lip and looked to the side.

“I saw to that room earlier today.”

He went into room five and began changing the sheets on the bed.

“The man in the picture is named Will Graham. Did he say where he was headed?” Beverly continued.

“No, he kept to himself.”

“Did he make any phone calls?”

“No.”

Beverly smirked and raised her eyebrows.

“Did you spend the night with him?”

Hannibal spun around and glared at her. Beverly stepped back.

“What?” he asked.

“How can you be sure he didn’t make any phone calls?”

A dry laugh emerged from his throat and he said, “Oh. I only meant that I wasn’t aware of any phone calls.”

Beverly nodded, her eyes fixed upon Hannibal’s face. She shifted her weight to one leg and put a hand on her hip.

“Good looking fellow, isn’t he?” she remarked.

“I suppose so.”

“If this boy, Will, were here, you wouldn’t be hiding him would you?”

Hannibal stiffened and told her, “No.”

“Not if he paid you well?”

Beverly saw a strange smoothness come over his face. He adjusted his jaw and stared back at her with eyes that seemed almost maroon in this light. She felt a tiny shiver in her neck.

“Of course not,” he said.

“I meant no offense, Mr. Lecter…”

“Hannibal.”

“Hannibal. It’s just that I’ve heard a thing or two about this kid. Apparently, he is a bit wily.”

Hannibal nodded.

“But you’re not likely to fall for the charms of some pretty boy, right?” she probed. “Let's say, for the sake of argument, he wanted you to gallantly protect him. You'd know you were being used. You wouldn't be made a fool of.”

“I'm not a fool,” Hannibal responded in a lethargic tone. “And I’m not capable of being fooled.”

“Of course not,” Beverly conceded.

She clapped her hands together and looked out the open motel room door.

“Thank you for your time, Hannibal,” she said, and then asked, “Is there a pay-phone?”

“To your right, at the far end of the line of rooms.”

Beverly thanked him and went out. She slipped a nickel into the payphone and called up Jack Crawford.

“What do you got, Bev?” he asked.

“I’ve stopped at a place called Lecter Motel,” she told him. “Caretaker is acting fishy, gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Has he seen Will Graham?”

“Yeah, but he says he moved on after one night. I don’t know, Jack. Something’s calling my name here. If it doesn’t gel, it isn’t aspic, and this ain’t gelling.”

“Follow your gut, Bev,” Jack instructed. “It hasn’t led you wrong before.”

“All right, I’m going to snoop around for a bit. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

While Hannibal changed the linens in room seven, Beverly moved her car around the motel and parked it out of sight. She looked up at the house on the hill. Casting one last glance at the motel, she walked up the steps toward the front door.

The house was unlocked. She slipped inside and began to look around.

Hannibal finished the odd-numbered side of the string of rooms and headed toward the other side. He noticed tire tracks in the gravel heading around the corner. When he followed them, he found Beverly’s car.

Beverly came to the locked room at the top of the stairs and dropped to her knees to peer into the keyhole. She could see a pair of men’s feet in front of a chair. She slipped a card between the door and the jamb and then pried it open.

Inside, Will Graham looked up at her in shock. Beverly smiled.

“Well, hello Mr. Graham,” she said, but her face fell when she saw the collar and chain around his neck. “Oh my god.”

Will was too surprised to move. The book in his hands fell to the floor.

“I’m going to get this off of you, just hold on,” she assured him.

Will twitched and leaned back as she came closer.

“Are you the police?” he asked.

“I’m a private investigator,” she answered, pulling out a pin and trying to pick at the lock on his collar. “I work for Mr. Lowery.”

The hair on Will’s arms stood up and he reeled back from her.

“It’s all right, Will,” Beverly told him. “He doesn’t want to press charges. He says you can make it up to him yourself.”

Will shook his head. He could feel his guts sink inside of him as he saw in his mind the rear-view mirror taking the scenery in reverse, pulling him backwards. It was such a hopeless image, so repulsive, that he didn’t say anything when he saw his captor silently walk up behind the woman.

Minutes later, and Will still couldn’t calm his breathing. He had never watched a person die before. Hannibal had gripped her head with two hands and twisted it to the side with a sickening crack. The woman hung limp in his arms, head lolling to the side, as Hannibal dragged her out the door and down the stairs.

Will heard a lot of scuffle in the kitchen downstairs. Then a bit of silence, followed by heavy whacking.  He wandered out of the door onto the landing, as far as his chain could reach. Stretching over the banister, he could see Hannibal in the kitchen, hacking the body of the woman into pieces with a broad meat cleaver.

Will returned to his room and sat on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He was panicking and sick from the sight of violence, but there was a strange undercurrent there. Relief. He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled, once again picturing that rear-view mirror. He could see Baltimore grow smaller and smaller while his breathing relaxed and he controlled the tremors of his body.

Night began to fall when Hannibal slowly moved up the stairs. As he reached the top, Will could see him carrying a platter with a bowl of soup on it. He showed Will a sweet smile as though the entire day had passed uneventfully, peacefully.

When he put the platter down on the end-table table next to Will’s bed, the young man stared at it apprehensively.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Flemish stew,” Hannibal answered.

“I saw you chopping that woman up, in the kitchen. Then you started cooking.”

“Waste not, want not.”

Hannibal’s quirky grin caused Will to scoot back away from him on the bed.

“You should eat, Will,” Hannibal said in an eerily calm voice. “You need your strength.”

“I will not be a cannibal,” Will insisted.

“You already are,” Hannibal pointed out. “From the first time we had dinner in my parlor.”

Will's face contorted in disgust, “That’s monstrous, Hannibal. Monstrous.”

“Ah, but there is a bit of a monster in you, as well.”

“What does that even mean?”

Hannibal clucked his tongue and replied, “You saw me enter the room, Will. You knew what I was going to do, and you didn’t warn her.”

“That’s not quite the same as eating her.”

“That’s a dubious moral distinction.”

Will shook his head, and Hannibal studied him for a moment with glinting eyes. Suddenly, he grabbed the handcuffs still on the dresser and darted at him.

“No, Hannibal,” Will called out.

Hannibal pushed him down and cuffed his hands behind his back. Then he lifted him so that he leaned against the backrest. He stalked out of the room and returned moments later with a long plastic tube and a funnel.

“Please don’t,” Will gasped.

Hannibal climbed onto the bed and straddled Will’s lap. He took his face in his hand and forced his mouth open.

“Just relax,” Hannibal coaxed. He pushed the tube into Will’s mouth and down his esophagus.

Will’s throat closed around the tube, emanating gulps and choking sounds. Will’s eyes grew wide and his neck tightened.

When Hannibal had lowered the tube inside of him, he leaned back on his knees and admired what he had done. Will’s head was pulled back, the line of his jaw at a beautiful angle, exposing his jugular. His adam’s apple moved with the sound of his muffled gagging. Hannibal ran his hand over it, stroking his throat, now twitching and straining in the most enticing manner.

He enjoyed how his lovely mouth was forced open, and from a vantage point where he could really see it fully. His soft, curving lips stretched around the tube. His expressive eyes slid to the periphery so he could see Hannibal. The man stroked his cheek and he shivered.

“I think I might be in love with you, Will,” he whispered. Will squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered through his nose.

Hannibal planted the funnel at the top of the tube and then reached for the soup, taking care not to spill. Will tried to shake his head but it was more of a shudder. Hannibal raised up on his knees more and pressed his torso against Will’s as he held him still. He slowly poured the soup into the funnel and down the tube.

“There’s a good boy,” Hannibal murmured. His voice was so soft, gentle, like he was nursing a wounded animal back to life.

He finished pouring and pulled the tube out. Will lurched forward, coughing and gasping. His stomach threatened to empty its contents out onto his lap. Hannibal clapped his hand over Will’s mouth and held it there until his gag reflex stopped.

When he took his hand away, all Will could do was stare at him in shock. He sniveled when Hannibal leaned into him and kissed him fully on the mouth.

“Why,” Will croaked, “Why is it so important that I eat her?”

“She terrified you Will,” Hannibal said, pushing Will’s hair back out of his eyes and cradling his head in his hands. “I could see it in your eyes. She was a harbinger of doom.”

Will gazed back at him, more conflicted with himself and his feelings for Hannibal than ever before. Still, he could see the intense love in the man’s eyes.

Hannibal went on, “Meat is life. You put the life in your belly and you live. By taking that which terrifies you, and consuming it, you galvanize your own existence.”

“I imagine you aren’t terrified of anyone.”

“So I am a walking advertisement for the benefits of cannibalism,” Hannibal chuckled.

He paused for a moment then continued, “I was terrified of the men who attacked Mischa. They proved their capacity to wound me to a point nearly beyond survival.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Let’s see,” Hannibal stared off into the middle distance, “Rolled tenderloin stuffed with apricots, scalloppine with tarragon and capers, and… ah yes, it was a varkenshaas with a delightful white wine and Dijon sauce.”

Will blinked and darted his eyes over Hannibal’s self-amused expression. Suddenly he began to giggle, a tiny, hiccupping sound at first that soon became fits of delirious laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, Beverly, I didn't want you to die but you had to. I love you.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to FannibalLecter, who specifically requested an intubation scene. Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

Jack Crawford hadn’t heard from his partner in days. This was more than unusual, it was downright impossible. He rubbed his hands over his round face and scowled as Mr. Lowery complained.

“She checks in with me on a daily basis,” he muttered. “Something must have gone wrong.”

“She found him,” Lowery insisted. “He paid her to walk away.”

Jack lowered his hands and shot him a dead-eye stare.

“That’s not something she would do.”

“I’ll bet you my last cent,” Lowery went on. “She’s heading off with a good chunk of that $40,000 right now. Taking a nice vacation.”

“You don’t know Beverly,” Jack answered, voice rising to a roar as he stood with his hands on the desk, “I know Beverly!”

Mr. Lowery was stunned to silence by the bulldog of a man he’d just poked with a stick.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Jack promised him.

When he left the office, Jack sat back in his chair and scratched his brow. He remembered Beverly’s last call, and how she said she had the heebie-jeebies. How he had told her to follow her gut. What was that place she said she stopped at? Motel… Lecter. That was it. Lecter Motel.

* * *

It occurred to Will that Hannibal no longer seemed to interact with Mischa. As time passed, Hannibal rarely even went down to the motel. One night, he unlocked the chain from Will’s collar. The young man gazed at him quizzically, placing his hand on Hannibal’s arm as he pulled the chain away from him.

“You have been so well-behaved,” he cooed. “I thought it would be nice for you to join me at the dinner table this evening.”

It felt strange walking without the weight and sound of a chain dragging behind him. He followed Hannibal into the dining room, the table of which was set in elegant fashion, with lit candles at the centerpiece.

Hannibal pulled out a chair for Will and poured him a glass of Cabernet.

“Saltimbocca ala Romana,” Hannibal explained, putting a plate in front of him. The delicate roll of meat topped with prosciutto and green sprigs of sage looked oddly pretty, considering what it was made from.

Will waited for Hannibal to sit and then lifted the roll to his nose and sniffed it. He pushed it into his mouth and found himself salivating around the savory arrangement of two textures of meat.

“Delicious,” he said.

Hannibal nodded graciously and began to eat as well.

“You are the cantil,” he mused. “The deadly pit-viper that disguises itself as prey, so that it can devour would-be predators.”

Will took another bite, relishing the thought.

“Another step in galvanizing my existence,” he added, and then flashed Hannibal an impish smirk, “With the blood of my enemies.”

“Blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance,” Hannibal responded.

“I do feel radiant.”

Hannibal chewed and thought for a moment then asked, “Why were you so afraid of her, Will?”

“You said it yourself,” he replied. “She was a harbinger of doom. Cerberus at the gates, making sure I don’t escape my personal hell.”

“She wanted to return you to the life you left behind?”

Will nodded.

“You felt compelled to rebut the belief that you were in an inescapable situation. This predator that tracks you, he is not inescapable.”

“It isn’t just Mr. Lowery,” Will exhaled. “My life has been filled with Mr. Lowerys. My trap is an amalgamation of each and every crushing, persistent indignity. It sucks me in at every turn.”

“Do you feel safe here, Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will’s eyes wandered around the room.

“This place is so far removed from my concept of the world,” he said, his voice creaking. “When I look back at my old life from a distance it’s like I’m on an island and those memories are a boat on the sea. This is really the only time I’ve ever felt safe.”

“But I have shown you indignity, haven’t I? I’ve debased you.”

Will shook his head.

“I fully realize now how much I crave debasement, when the beauty and the violence no longer need to be dissociated.”

Hannibal gazed at his precious possession and followed him with his eyes as the young man got up from his chair and walked over to him. Will lifted Hannibal’s chin and kissed him.

“I know that exists,” Will whispered. “For you are the embodiment of it. You are incomparably beautiful.”

Hannibal took him in his arms and Will sat in his lap, pressing his body against him as they kissed.


	9. Chapter 9

Hannibal entered room three and crouched in front of Mischa’s chair. He smiled and brushed a stray strand of hair back into her plaits. He spoke to her in a gentle voice, but her own voice was different these days. It was less like sound waves striking against his ear drums, and more like internal monologue.

Beneath the ritual, Hannibal knew that Mischa couldn’t respond. He knew she couldn’t leave this room. The reality was hidden beneath a veil of loneliness that was starting to shift and tug. It was an unsettling feeling, like picking up a scent that triggers a memory and not being able to identify either. He pressed a wild violet from the patch beside the house into the hand that lay open on her lap, and left the room.

Beverly’s car had to join Will’s at the bottom of the marsh. Will stood on the front porch of the house, smoking one of his last cigarettes. Hannibal hadn’t put him in chains again, but the collar remained around his neck. He watched with interest as Hannibal rolled the car into the weedy pond that contained, at its center, a muddy quagmire.

He could see the muck bubbling and rising up over the wheels. The fenders were going under, slowly, very slowly. Finally, the ooze had reached the door handles; coming up over the side-glass and the windshield. There wasn't a sound to be heard. The car kept descending, inch by silent inch, taking with it Will’s lingering anxieties and resentment and fear of the past.

Suddenly there was a sort of sucking noise, an abrupt _plop_ and the car was gone. It had settled beneath the surface of the swamp. There was something immensely satisfying about it.

Hannibal joined him on the steps and took out the key to the collar. He began to unlock it, but Will put his hand on his arm once more. He gazed up at Hannibal with wide blue eyes, bit his lip, and shook his head.

“I’m only taking this off,” Hannibal assured him. “You don’t need it anymore.”

“I like it,” Will breathed. He held his cigarette aloft.

Hannibal looked at him questioningly.

“Are you still confused about anything regarding me?” Will asked.

Hannibal ran his fingers over the metal.

“Not so much confused as curious. How does wearing this make you feel?”

“Owned,” Will answered. “Objectified… desired. How does seeing me in it make you feel?”

Hannibal’s lips twitched in a faint snarl. He clutched the back of the collar and pulled it tight against Will’s throat. His raspy breath brought a glimmer to his eyes.

“Ravenous,” Hannibal replied, “Lacking in self-control.”

He released his grip on the collar and Will gasped.

“I know you enjoy punishing me for arousing you,” he said. He took a slow drag and let the smoke curl out of his open lips. He let his other hand caress the front of Hannibal’s trousers.

Hannibal grabbed him by the wrist and glowered at him, his breathing heavy and rapid through his nose. Will was right. Every suggestive movement, every sensual coquettish thing he did seemed to trigger a deep malevolence in him.

“Do you think you deserve to be punished?” he asked in a low murmur.

Will shook his head impishly.

“It doesn’t matter what I deserve.”

He went to suck on the cigarette once more, his lips wetted and his eyes shining. Hannibal plucked it out of his hand.

“Maybe that’s why you provoke me,” he said, grabbing Will by his hair and forcing his head back. He held the cigarette between his fingers as he grazed them over the young man’s jugular. The burning cherry came close to his skin, causing Will to flinch.

“As long as it has its intended effect,” Will responded. His chest was moving and his eyes darting to the side. The initial fluttering of panic was like a frantic bird inside of his gut.

Hannibal put the cigarette between his teeth, took Will by the shoulders and bent him over the railing of the front porch. His mouth sneered around the white paper as he grunted and pushed Will’s shirt up on his body. He ran his hand over the indent of his spine, and his smooth peach-tone skin. He unbuckled Will’s belt and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. Will arched his back and grasped the slats of the railing as Hannibal pushed his hands between his legs and spread them apart.  He stroked Will’s cock as he pressed his own groin against his ass. He spat in his hand and ran it over his hole. Then he opened his fly and pushed his cock inside of him.

Will released a shocked, bleating moan at how roughly Hannibal thrust into him. He clutched the slats harder, squeezed his eyes shut, and lowered his head, opening himself wider.

“You enjoy being made into an object,” Hannibal muttered around the cigarette.

“Yes,” Will shuddered, and then cried out when Hannibal began to pound into him in quick, forceful movements.

Hannibal took the cigarette out of his mouth and ashed it onto Will’s back. The young man hissed and opened his eyes. He looked out at the country road that ran by the motel. There were no cars passing, but he felt completely exposed out here in the sun, getting deeply fucked on the front porch. His eyes began to roll upward and his mouth fell open in a trembling gape. The feel of the collar jostling around his neck with each thrust of Hannibal’s hips was profoundly comforting.

Hannibal began to groan and he grabbed one side of Will’s hips for leverage. With his other hand he took the cigarette and pressed it directly above the cleft of Will’s ass. The young man lurched forward and released a high, panicked cry. Hannibal tossed the snubbed cigarette into the bushes and grabbed Will’s hips with both hands, fucking him until Will’s broken noises were all he could hear above the sounds of the marsh.

As Hannibal’s growls and grunts grew heavier, he pulled back on Will’s collar and lifted him up by the throat. He strangled him as he stood him upright, pointing the young man’s nakedness at the open road. He fucked him standing until he came into him with a satisfied moan. Will whimpered and looked over his shoulder as Hannibal released his grip on the collar. He saw softness return to the man’s face.

Hannibal looked into Will’s eyes as he fondled him, his own cock still buried in his ass. He marveled at how beautiful he was just now, face flushed from choking, lips quivering, eyes wet, looking back at him with a desire for assurance. He laid his forehead against Will’s temple and stroked him to orgasm; the sweet, appreciative chirps and gasps he made an intoxicating symphony to Hannibal’s ears.

The land around Lecter Motel stretched on for miles. The road nearby: as persistently vacant as the rooms for rent. This place really was an island. _Intruders beware,_ Will thought as he purred and kissed his captor.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack Crawford pulled his blue Cadillac Eldorado Brougham into the lot of the motel. He stopped short of the signal cord and climbed out, gently closing the door to avoid the noise. He peered around at the modest place and slowly approached the office.

He could hear the sound of muffled talking coming from one of the rooms. He stopped and leaned against the door marked “three.” A man’s voice was speaking in a low tone, the words he co uldn’t quite make out. Footsteps approached the door and Jack stepped away, returning to his car.

Hannibal emerged and was startled by the burly man waiting for him.

“Good afternoon!” Jack called.

“Good afternoon,” Hannibal replied, pulling the door closed behind him while standing directly in front of it in an attempt to block.

Hannibal’s eyes moved to the Maryland plates.

“I suppose you’ll be asking me about a man named Graham.”

Jack’s face smoothed.

“Why do you suppose that?”

“Someone else from Maryland came by a few days ago, wanting to know if I’d seen him. I told her that he just stopped by for one night and then headed on.”

“Did you see which way she went?”

“I believe westward,” Hannibal answered. “That’s the direction I told her Graham was headed.”

“You see, that’s funny,” Jack said, “She’s my partner, and I haven’t heard from her since she stopped here.”

“Well I hope everything’s all right,” Hannibal replied.

Jack nodded and pointed at room three.

“Who were you talking to in there?” he asked.

Hannibal’s eyes grew cloudy.

“Tenants.”

“I don’t see any car in the lot,” Jack pointed out.

Hannibal didn’t respond.

“May I speak to them? Perhaps they saw Mr. Graham.”

“I don’t think they want to be bothered.”

Jack smiled facetiously and said, “Ah, I won’t take up too much of their time.”

He headed toward the room without Hannibal’s permission. His eyes snapped when Hannibal pushed forward and blocked the door.

“I’ll ask you to leave my customer’s alone, please,” Hannibal said in a low growl.

Jack stepped back for a moment then suddenly snatched his gun out and pointed it at Hannibal. The caretaker’s hands shot up when he saw the weapon.

“Show me the room,” Jack ordered, his voice strangely calm for a man making a lethal threat.

Hannibal unlocked the door and let him inside.

“It’s only my sister playing,” he explained.

Jack approached the girl in the chair and when he saw her face he released a repulsed shout. He whirled back to Hannibal, holding the gun with both hands.

“What is this, you sick fuck?!” he cried.

“Please watch your language in front of my little sister,” Hannibal snarled.

“Your little sister is a corpse!” Jack yelled, “A long time dead, from the look of it.”

Hannibal looked back and forth between Jack and Mischa. He released a pained groan, bent over, and grabbed his head.

“Don’t say that,” he hissed.

“What the fuck is going on around here?” Jack demanded.

Hannibal looked up, his golden eyes flaring.

“I asked you… to watch… your language… in front of _my little sister_!” He screamed and darted for Jack, tackling him.

Jack stumbled back, his arm pushed out of the way. The gun discharged, shattering the mirror on the wall. The two grappled with each other and Jack bumped into the chair, sending Mischa to the floor. Her brittle neck snapped and her head rolled across the carpet.

Will heard the shot ring out from below. He ran to the window and saw the car in the lot, and the door to room three standing open.

When Hannibal saw his sister’s body falling apart, he threw himself back and collapsed against the wall. Jack struggled to catch his breath and steadied his gun. He loomed over Hannibal.

“Now I want answers,” he muttered, “And you’re going to give them to me.”

“I don’t know where Will Graham is,” Hannibal said.

“I don’t care anymore about that damn kid,” Jack growled. “I want to know where my partner is.”

He pressed the nose of his gun against Hannibal’s head. He didn’t hear Will enter the room. He didn’t notice him picking up a shard of glass from the broken mirror.

Will wrapped his arm around Jack’s neck and plunged the glass into his throat, severing his artery. Jack gulped and clutched at the wound, dropping the gun. He spun around to see Will glowering at him with a bizarre metal collar around his neck. A quizzical expression came over Jack’s face and he clutched at Will’s arm before falling to the floor and bleeding out.

Will looked at Hannibal, who had crawled over to Mischa’s body. He cradled her head in his hand and tears began to roll down his cheeks. Will didn’t know what to say, so he just sat beside him on the floor, laying his head on his shoulder and holding him.

* * *

“Don’t sink it,” Will coaxed, staring at Jack’s Cadillac from the dining room window. “It’s too beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” Hannibal murmured, glancing up at him while he poured a glass of wine. “Far be it from me to deny you anything you desire.”

Will beamed back at him. The two dined on Jack Crawford confit with figs. Earlier they had dug a grave for Mischa and decorated it with cattails from the marsh.

“You killed a man,” Hannibal mused. “You’re not the same boy who felt so trapped when he came to my door.”

Will nodded and savored the meat on his plate.

“I’m dismantling who I was and moving it brick by brick,” he said.

“More will come,” Hannibal pointed out.

“Then we should leave,” Will suggested. “I have nearly 40 grand and a gorgeous Cadillac. I’d say a road-trip is in order.”

Hannibal cast a glance around his house. It had been his home since childhood, but suddenly it didn’t feel as necessary. Home could be transplanted so much easier now.

They packed light. Anything we need could be bought on the way, Will had said. Hannibal removed the collar from around his neck, and grinned when he saw Will drop it into his suitcase.

The blue Caddy slipped like a glistening fish over the road, through the breeze that tousled Will’s curls as he leaned back against the passenger door. He had buried his bare feet between Hannibal’s legs as the man drove. Hannibal watched out of the corner of his eye as Will lazily bobbed his head to the tune of “All I Have to do is Dream” by the Everly Brothers, playing on the radio.

“Where should we head first?” he asked.

“I thought we should make our way back to Baltimore.”

Hannibal looked surprised.

“Why there?”

“I want to introduce you to Mr. Lowery.”

Hannibal chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Will could see that Hannibal was just as much wrapped around his little finger as he was around his. He sat up and grazed his lips against his ear.

“Mr. Lowery is a pig,” he whispered. “And he deserves to be somebody’s bacon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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